They were the kind of lifts typically used on recreational vehicles, so I only needed to crank down the nearest one, enough to raise the van a few inches, and switch the tires—assuming I didn’t misplace any lug nuts in the process.
Unfortunately, though, as soon as I knelt beside the tire, I detected an advancing ruckus—even over the van’s rumbling engine. The zombified scouts were closing fast. I turned toward the sound, spying several moonlit silhouettes cresting the hill. Even if some of them lost their balance and tumbled down the slope, nothing would prevent them from reaching me before I could get the tire changed. But what choice did I have? If I didn’t complete the job, we’d soon be surrounded by a sea of determined undead.
“Fuck.” I hopped to my feet, knowing I’d unintentionally trapped us in a hopeless situation.
Suddenly, I heard one of the rear doors creak open, followed by a series of gunshots. Through the open driver’s-side door, I noticed Clare still sitting in the passenger seat, trying to wrangle a disgruntled Azazel into the cat carrier. Obviously, my wife wasn’t the one with an itchy trigger finger.
As the gunshots continued to sound, I figured Casey and George had decided to thin the herd a bit. I appreciated their efforts, but I knew they couldn’t stop all the little carnivorous fuckers before at least one of them closed the gap.
Standing there like a brainless lamppost, I gripped my tire iron and wondered what to do. I was about to dive back into the truck and opt for waiting out the horde when I heard my wife’s voice.
“Mom, where the hell ya think you’re going?”
Following Clare’s concerned gaze toward the rear of the van, I spied Jill trudging around the corner. Oddly enough, headed in my direction. As she neared me, I noticed a spray can in her right hand.
Even in the moonlight, I recognized the label: Fix-a-Flat tire sealant. That shit had saved my ass on more than one occasion. I’d meant to stock up on a case of the stuff during my prepping phase, but I’d never gotten the chance.
True, it wouldn’t fully restore the air pressure in the slowly sagging tire, but at least it would prevent the leak from causing even more damage. Maybe I could then rock the van off the headstone and flee the hungry brats in time.
Jill halted in front of me, extending her hand. “The kid had this in his wagon.”
I reached for the can, but she pulled it toward her chest, shaking her head, and glanced back at the approaching mass of zombies.
When she looked at me again, her sickly face had taken on a grim determination. “I’ll do it.”
“But, Jill…”
She shook her head, more emphatically this time. “No argument. You have a wife to take care of and—”
“Mom!” Clare stood between our seats, gripping Azazel’s carrier. “What the hell are you doing?! Get back inside!”
Jill smiled wistfully at her daughter, then turned back to me. Despite the ever-loudening din of moans and gunshots behind us, I heard her next words clearly.
“Joe, we both know I’m dead already. Clare does, too. Even if she’s not ready to admit it.”
“Are you sure?”
I didn’t know what had compelled me to ask. I merely felt that I should.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
I hesitated, about to protest—for Clare’s sake—then sighed with relief. “Thank you, Jill.”
She nodded stoically. I offered a pensive smile. And we shared a fleeting moment of understanding. My mother-in-law was fading fast. Soon, she’d become a liability—a danger to the rest of us—and she knew it.
“Stop screwing around, Mom,” Clare insisted, setting the carrier on the ground and edging toward the open door. “Joe, you, too.”
I doubted she’d heard her mother’s words over the approaching cacophony. If she had, she would’ve done more than simply protest. She would’ve leapt over the driver’s seat and tried to drag us both back inside.
It was bad enough that Jill and I stood beyond the relative safety of the van. The longer we delayed, the more likely we’d both perish at the grubby hands of numerous underage zombies.
Ignoring her daughter, Jill said, “I never liked you. Never thought you were good enough for my Clare.” Not a shred of dishonesty in her words.
“I always suspected as much.” Smirking, I gazed toward the herd headed our way. Time was short, but words needed to be said. “You thought I took your daughter away from you.”
“Well, in some ways, you did,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder. “But none of that matters now.” She fixed me with a fierce gaze. “You’d better protect her.”
“On my life,” I promised, “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
Jill smiled at me—something she’d rarely done over the years. “I know you will.” Then, with a final burst of strength, she steered me toward the open door and prodded me forward. “Now, get inside!”
As I climbed into the van and tossed the tire iron on the floor, Clare peered around me—her brown eyes wide and worried, like that of a wild animal trying to safeguard her brood from a vicious predator.
“Mom! What are you doing?”
With a solitary tear running down her ashen cheek, Jill shifted her gaze toward her daughter’s fretful face.
“Goodbye, sweetheart. I love you so much, and I’m so proud of you. You’re the best thing I ever did.” She sniffled. “So, just keep being you. Take care of yourself, OK?” She smiled. “And my grandcat, too.”
Clare lunged forward, practically climbing over me to reach her mother. “No, this is crazy!” Her voice choked, and the tears flowed. “Mom! Mom, please! You don’t have to do this!”
Jill smiled once more, shook the spray can, and crouched down to unscrew the valve on the busted tire. As soon as she’d affixed the can to the valve, she began releasing the sealant.
Clare leaned over me, grappling at the air. “Mom,” she wailed, “you don’t have to do this!” She sniffled, her voice
